Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The portal fell to pieces as he stepped out of it. Another universe, another world that wasn't his own. Just fucking perfect.

He looked around. A school, looked like. Hallways were lit, fluorescent bulbs making barely-audible hums, but empty. Probably during classes…

He heard thumps even as a scent reached him, [foul] even through the mask’s filters.

Hrrm. The focus?

He moved towards the noise and the smell. Both were sourced in a locker. A puddle of an unidentifiable liquid was seeping out from the bottom.

There was someone inside that.

The lock was a simple combination one, cheap steel. It would have sufficed for most humans, but for him bracing a foot against the edge of the door and pulling hard was enough to snap the thin loop. The locker door flew open and--

Sweet Maria mother of Iasor!

The girl was thrashing and screaming, and broken nails scored the side of his neck before he was able to pull back. Shit, he'd have to [treat those, or risk infection] .

The girl's screaming was attracting attention- he heard footsteps in the corridors. Overweight, runner huffing and puffing, not a threat.

“ Step away from the girl, now!”

Brave, though.

He straightened, leaving the girl to pull herself together for the moment, and heard the overweight hall monitor gulp. “Call an ambulance,” he said. “ Now.”

The tone of command got the man fumbling for a communicator. Good.

He knelt back down to the girl.

Dead? No. Pulse was still steady. Comatose. Recoverable.

“Now, what sort of focus will you be…?” he muttered.

The paramedics responded quickly, and he followed them as they worked, seeing wary glances and hearing quiet mutterings of the word 'cape’. Hrrm. Another world of metahumans. Tricky.

The hospital smelled like all hospitals did. He waited. The girl's parents would arrive, soon enough.

He pulled out his tablet, and set it to breaking in to the poorly-secured network.

In the meantime, research was required.

###

DESTINATION

TRAJECTORY

AGREEMENT

COMPLIANCE

…

ENERGY

ADAPTATION

EXPLOITATION

AGREEMENT

COMPLIANCE

…

###

Chapter Text

Hannah studied the photo of the new cape on the ride to the hospital. Judging from costume alone, the man would have fit in well at an Empire rally. The long brown coat, armored vest, and red-lensed gas mask all lent a militaristic air the skinheads tended to like.

The photo went back into the small file. Slim, since the man had only appeared two days ago.

No debut, no fights. Just rescuing a girl, Taylor Hebert, who remained unconscious at the moment. The police were wary of him, but he'd been nothing but cooperative. Hospital footage showed him talking with the girl's father, the first day, and leaving with him to return the next. No priors, no footage before then, nothing. A new trigger, maybe? Possibly a Stranger- interviews with Winslow staff confirmed that nobody had seen him enter the school. More importantly, so did exterior footage. She didn't trust the Winslow staff all that much, not after what had happened to that poor girl. Nobody had noticed that either.

The provisional codename was ‘Ranger’, after someone noted a similarity in appearance to someone from an Aleph videogame.

She tucked the file away as the van pulled up, her power shifting to a combat knife at her hip. The receptionist at the front desk nodded and waved her through as she led the way towards the stairwell. Third floor, down the hall on the right side.

And there was Ranger, sitting out in the hallway. He looked up as she approached, those blank red lenses focused on her. “Miss Militia,” he rasped.

She nodded to him. “Ranger.”

“That is what they call me, apparently,” he said dryly. “I assume I have the PRT to thank for that?”

“Yes.” She gave a look to the door. “Hebert's?”

He nodded. “Panacea saw to her. Her dad's talking with her now.” He paused. “Why are you here?”

“You, actually.”

“Ah. I don't do teams.”

“Not that. Just letting you know the option is there. And getting an idea of what you're like. I'm assuming you have no plans to go villain?”

Ranger snorted. “My choices in that case would be two separate flavors of racist, a bunch of junkies, or small-time crooks. I'm not an idiot.”

She nodded, and handed him her card. “If there's any trouble you get into, don't be afraid to call,” she said.

He nodded as he took it. “I'll--”

Screams came from the Hebert’s room, and they both whirled as a massive golden-scaled limb smashed through the door, Ranger diving for cover and coming up with what looked like a tinkertech shotgun. Her own power settled into a more mundane shotgun, loaded with live ammunition. Somehow she doubted beanbag rounds would do anything to this...dragon? Lung’s scales were grey, so it wasn't--

A faint popping noise, and the limb vanished.

“What?” 

Chapter Text

There were two, immeasurably vast, spiraling around each other in the vastness of space. Crystalline, cold and perfect and inhuman.

Intrusion. A third, and--

I opened my eyes, and immediately sat up, only to have a hand grip my shoulder. “Sit back down,” a tired-sounding voice said. “I had to fix the damage, and there wasn’t exactly much to use,” she said. Blurry white resolved itself into a woman in a hooded robe. Panacea. I was in the hospital. Why--

The locker.

I barely noticed as Panacea left, saying something, but Dad was something I couldn’t miss. The first thing he did was hug me. He hadn’t-- hadn’t done that since Mom had died.

I heard a voice, low and hissing, at the edge of the room. “I’ll leave you two alone,” it said, and I heard the click of a door before Dad finally let go, giving me my glasses before finding a seat in a cheap chair near my bed.

“What happened?” Dad asked. “I thought…”

They’d been backing off. Except they hadn’t, not really. Just laying in wait. I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t...didn’t tell you. They…”

It all came out, a flood of useless words, tripping over each other. Madison. Sophia. Emma. The locker.

Dad didn’t shout, didn’t say a thing. Eyes widened, then narrowed, and hands curled into fists.

“Taylor.” I looked back up from my knees. Dad’s face was as shocked as I had thought it would have been. Broken again. My fault.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shook my head, not answering. Gathering the words I needed. Dad sat back in his chair, ran hands through his hair. “God damn them. I should-”

“Alan’s a lawyer. Sophia’s a track star. Who’d believe me?” I said bitterly. Emma, my best friend, turning on me like that. And everyone just went along with it.

My head ached, and a spot of light appeared in the corner of my vision, the start of a migraine for sure. I shut my eyes, tried to shove the light away, but it got closer and larger.

Regret. Power. Escalation. Anger. Accepted.

And suddenly it was there, shining behind my eyelids, something infinitely strong, I knew it. It swallowed me up, and-

My eyes flew open as something hit my bed, sending it rolling, and I screamed as a wall of golden scales appeared, smashing through the door and barely missing Dad. With a screech, claws ripped free of the floor, and the owner of the limb fell off the side of the building with an impact that sent dust drifting down.

I numbly noticed that whatever it was had taken out the wall on it’s way down.

Dad helped me sit up as a couple of capes ran in. I recognized Miss Militia, but the other one was a complete stranger. And a little creepy looking, with that gas mask. The man peered over the edge of the building, and whistled. “Okay. Large golden dragon.” He gave me a look. “Yours?”

Wait, what? Golden. Like the light had been. I...did that mean I had powers? Making dragons? Okay, that was just plain ridi-

“It’s coming back up,” the man said. “Or it’s just getting bigger…” He stepped back as a claw that nearly filled the gap poked into the room, before starting to shrink back down, turning into something human. The man offered whoever it was a hand up, pulling them into the room.

Dad made a choked noise.

It was...me. Except I wasn’t that tall. Or with golden eyes, or all those scars (maybe not that, I hadn’t checked under the blankets). Or naked.

Dragon-me looked down at herself, and covered up quickly. Gas Mask Guy threw a blanket around her, preserving her (my?) modesty.

She stared at me.

“Okay. Why are you me?” she finally said.

“Other way ‘round,” Gas Mask said. Huh. He was the hissing voice I’d heard earlier.

Dragon-me stared at Dad, then ran forward and hugged him. Dad looked shocked for a second, then patted her back as she started crying.

Chapter Text

Click-clack. Cla-click. Again with the pen.

Ranger didn’t seem capable of staying still, fidgeting constantly. The mask turned, catching angles in the small room, staring directly at each of the cameras in turn, even the hidden ones.

Click-clack. Cla-click.

Either a warning, or an extension of a Thinker power of some kind, Piggot thought. Either way, it meant he knew he was being watched.

The pen spun through his fingers as Miss Militia entered, taking the seat across from him. Aegis and Gallant followed. Gallant thanks to the usefulness of his hidden Thinker power, Aegis simply because of the information Ranger purported to bring.

Click-clack. Cla-click.

The pen froze, and he placed it on the table, straightening, all trace of levity gone. “Let me start with simple things. I’ll lay out what I know. You’ll tell me what you plan to do with it. If I’m not satisfied, I’ll release it to the public, and we all get to enjoy the fun and games from that.” He glanced up at the most overhead of the cameras, and she’d swear he was smirking underneath that mask of his. “I’m not a fan of metas working on their own, so seeing some regulation gave me a bit of hope, but you've used up just about all of my goodwill at the moment.” He flicked a flash drive out onto the table. “This room secure?” he asked.

Miss Militia nodded.

“Shadow Stalker is Sophia Hess. She's also violated the terms of her probation, killed at least two people during unauthorized solo patrols, and caused a girl to trigger after a two-year bullying campaign that culminated in said girl being shoved into a locker filled with used feminine products.”

That, she could believe.

Miss Militia raised an eyebrow at the ice in Ranger’s voice. “I suppose you have proof?”

“The girl’s extremely detailed recordings, on the drive. Hess’s phone records, also on the drive. Not her PRT-issued one, but the private one she thinks you don’t know about.”

Piggot’s fingers dug into the top of the desk.

“You’ve got decent security- probably one of your schizotech specialists- but it ain’t enough to stop Confederacy datawar programs,” Ranger continued. “Should I play some of her calls? Or perhaps I can give you voice recordings from a witness? Or, hey, I can wait until the girl goes back and gets subjected to the bullying again. Rope that school’s useless-ass staff into this, make sure everyone sees just what a Ward’s capable of.”

There was a moment of silence, before Gallant nodded. Confirming that Ranger wasn’t lying, at least not knowingly.

She was going to kill Hess for this.

“Two questions, then, before we tell you,” Miss Militia said, voice under tight control. Aegis looked angry as well.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want?”

“I don’t like bullies. And at the moment...well, it’s not what I want. Right now, I’m just the messenger. I talked things over with the girl.”

Taylor Hebert. It had to be. Keeping the circumstances of the near-complete destruction of her hospital room quiet had taken far more effort than she liked, but it had paid to keep a cape who could summon something that powerful on a whim out of the limelight. She’d shown no inclination to be a villain or a hero, not yet, but Miss Militia’s report had spoken well of her...if less well of her apparent doppelganger.

“You’re helping them. Azrael. That’s what you called yourself?”

“It fits well enough. And I am.” He stood. “Change the name if you like. I don’t care all that much. I do care about seeing Stalker in cuffs by the end of the day, though, so getting on that might be a priority for you lot.”

“We’ll take her in, if the contents of this drive are truthful,” Militia replied.

Piggot cut the feed, then pressed the button to her receptionist. “Get Armsmaster into my office. Now. ”

###

Danny pulled the car up in front of the hospital as Taylor waited. Glen had opted to go ahead on foot. He wasn't certain if the man's joke about finding criminals to intimidate along the way was actually a joke.

Taylor got in, buckled her seatbelt.

There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of the car moving. There wasn't much traffic.

He hated that silence, hated Taylor hadn't been able to tell him, to confide in him. Seeing her...other self... what had happened after his own version had. Died.

Did it mean Taylor, his Taylor, could do the same? Murder someone. She'd inherited his temper, part of it at least, and what those bitches had done would make a saint murderous.

There was more silence, strained and awkward.

He had to make the effort, at least.

“So.”

Damn it.

“So,” Taylor echoed back.

“You've got powers.”

“...yeah.”

“You want to be a hero? I don't think the Wards…”

Taylor shook her head. “I'll be an independent. They let Sophia in, who knows what else they've missed?”

“Right,” he said. “Then I want you carrying mace. And…” He pushed away bad memories. “And a cell phone. I want you able to call me.”

A silence, as Taylor nodded.

“The school called, yesterday,” he said, after several minutes. He didn't miss the flinch. “They want you back next week.”

“Of course they do. Don't even care…” Taylor muttered.

“Taylor,” he said, cautiously. “You said you were keeping a record. I think I know a way to make it stick. I'll need to talk to Kurt, and a few others, but I have an idea of what needs doing.”

She blinked in surprise.

“Taylor. You said you thought it would break me, knowing that you were being bullied, and by Emma no less. It could have. But I've spent the last week wondering who threw you in there, and now…”

He could feel that anger, buried deep. It'd only been let out twice, both times to keep her safe. He felt it grab hold of him as he bared teeth. “And now, I know who I'm dealing with.”

“Dad.”

“What?”

“We've been parked here for five minutes.”

He glanced around, to see the drab shape of one of the Union buildings.

“Oh.” He shut off the car, and rubbed the back of his neck, before getting out of the car. He eyed the building.

He'd been planning to do this later, but if they were already here…

Taylor was already out of the car, following him as he opened the door.

The Union had a several empty barracks buildings, back in the days when there'd actually been a usable bay in the Bay. Now, of course, they just were abandoned, but Glen hadn't objected in the slightest, simply claiming it as his own. Now the concrete floors were well-swept, the rusting bunks cleared away and set in a corner.

Glen came from one of the side rooms, carrying his tablet, unmasked. He gave Danny a grin. “Sophia Hess, right? Well, you’ll be surprised to know what she's been up to. And storing it all on an unencrypted comm…” he chuckled.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. He almost preferred ‘Ranger’s’ quiet creepiness to Glen's manic phases.

Glen clapped his hands. “Right! Pleasantries! What do you need me for?”

“I was hoping you could talk to some of the others, figure out a way to start training Taylor in basic self-defense.”

Glen's smile vanished as he shrugged. “Don't see why it'd be a problem. Give me until tomorrow, though. I'm going to be blackmailing the PRT with all of Hess’s little crimes this afternoon.”

Danny decided he hadn't heard that sentence. Regrettably, Taylor decided otherwise.

“Wait, what?”

“Blackmail. Or is it whitemail, since it's forcing them to do good thi-”

“Stop. Just...stop.” Taylor sighed. “Why are you doing this? Why me?”

Glen shrugged. “You need someone in your corner, I really hate bullies, and your dad gave me a roof over my head. So I try to pay things back. Unfortunately, my talents are mostly spycraft, assassination, and the fine art of escalating violence, so…”

“Carviss. Please stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“The 'I’m cheerful because I'm a little bit crazy’ routine. It didn't work on the Merchants, and I'd thank you not to do it to my daughter,” Danny said tightly.

Taylor gave the man a hard look, one he wasn't used to seeing on his daughter's face.

“Fine. But nothing illegal, understand me? Or I bring dragon-me back.”

Carviss spread his hands. “I'll encourage them to throw the book at Little Miss Murder, nothing more. You have my word.”

He paused. “Now, can someone tell me how one becomes verified on this 'PHO’?”

###

Chapter Text

I'd have to deal with school, eventually. Three more days, until I had to go back. Even with Sophia gone (and I knew she was gone, thanks to PHO wondering where 'Shadow Stalker’ had gone, and the PRT announcement about her being sent to a Simurgh Containment Zone) Emma and Madison wouldn't stop. They hadn't before. A Duo was almost as bad as the Trio.

But now, out at the Union? I practiced.

If I shut my eyes, I could see them. A glittering web of lights, beyond counting, shifting and changing. If I focused, they shifted, some drawing closer, others farther away, never quite the same arrangement, always depending on what I wanted. I still hadn't ‘summoned’ any other me’s yet, after what had happened with Terror, but I think I knew how to choose what I needed.

'Villain’ and 'hero’ brought no change, nor did 'good’ or 'evil’. Well, Dragon-me had murdered Emma, and she still seemed like a good person...so maybe it just wasn't important to my power.

Instead, things like 'authority’, 'power’, 'determination’, those concepts brought a swarm of lights, so many it was like starting my selection all over again...I guess I had an interesting future ahead of me, no matter what.

Someone poked my back, and I jumped a little, the lights vanishing.

I glared at Carviss. “I was trying to work out how to get a specific power, you know. Almost had it, too,” I complained.

Carviss shrugged. “Parian’s more important, right?”

A week ago, I probably would’ve made an exclamation of some sort. Now, I just sighed. “And I can afford her how?”

He grinned. “You still value gold here. I'm moderately wealthy now. Nothing great, but I can afford to make sure you're well-equipped.”

Damn it. “You still haven't given me a good explanation for why you're helping me so much.”

“I told you, I don't--”

“No. Me , specifically. You just said you're wealthy, and I bet you could make a mint just talking to Dragon to sell your technology. But instead of that, you're here , constantly,” I said, standing and glaring at him. “You could go anywhere, do anything, heck, you could hire a tinker to make you a portal so you can go home , and you've just stayed here. Why?”

He sighed, and gave me a look. “You want the short version? Fate.”

“Bullshit. There's no such thing.”

“In this world, maybe not. But I am of another... what I learned, in my travels, is that every world has a focus. Good or evil. If I stay near that focus, I find a path onward, and a bit closer to home.”

“What, and you think I'm the center of the world?” I could almost laugh. “I can't even get teachers to notice people dumping glue on my stuff, how can I--”

“I know you are. Wherever the portal places me, it is always near the focus.”

“That's insane.”

He shrugged again. “It has worked for the past year. Less insane than you might think.”

I let out a breath. “Fine. Whatever.” I rubbed one of my temples. I suppose stuff like this proved his story, in a way. No normal human would act this way-

Compromise. Power. Hunter. Devourer. Accepted.

Shit. Another light, bloodred and hungry. Shoving didn't-

I closed my eyes and braced for another impact, but none materialized.

“What. The. Hell,” I heard a voice very similar to mine say.

I opened my eyes.

Well, at least this me hadn't arrived naked. She wore a white jacket with a furred ruff, long black jeans, and a white mask with red lenses, one that almost resembled an owl. She caught sight of me, and I could feel the glare. “What.” Her voice was flat and hissing, like Carviss’s.

The man handed her a small white card, and she took it reflexively.

“Hello fellow Taylor. Short version: there are lots of Earth Bets, therefore lots of you's. This version can summon the other ones, and that's how you're here. We'll send you back, when whatever we summoned you for is done,” she read incredulously.

“How- you printed them, didn't you,” I said to Carviss flatly. The idiot grinned, and nodded to the other me. “So, yeah, no idea why you showed up,” he said. “Sorry about that. We were just going to head over and get her a costume, I guess you can tag along. Two terrifying gasmasked metas are better than one, after all.”

Other-me stared at him, then sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fuck it, why not,” we said simultaneously.

“Excellent. You have a cape name?”

“Kakuja,” she replied flatly. “Yours?”

“I'm partial to 'Azrael’,” he said.

“Angel of death. A bit pretentious.”

“That's a first. Most people just respond with 'please don't kill me’.”

Great. They were bantering .

Chapter Text

Kakuja didn't walk. She loped, like she was hunting someone. While she went ahead, Glen guarded the girl's back. According to what he could find online, these ‘Boardwalks’ were the tourist hotspot of this dismal city, and both thievery and gang activity were discouraged….but best to keep an eye out.

He'd found a suitable concealment for the girl, a black mask that covered her face almost entirely, only the mouth and lower jaw exposed. Added to the hoodie and jeans, both uncharacteristically bright for her usual clothing styles, she would not be recognized easily. For himself, his own clothing sufficed, and he thought most people would be genuinely too afraid of Kakuja to even dare approach her, in costume or not.

Parian’s shop was, like most, a horror to defend. Wide shop windows, displaying mannequins that wouldn't offer the slightest amount of cover. The interior was equally open, the only concealment a thin wall behind which the fitting rooms were placed. More for privacy than anything else, thin plaster and wood. The whole place [raised his hackles] on principle alone.

He checked the time, set in the corner of his HUD. Two minutes early. He nodded to himself, and followed Taylor in.

Parian was unchanged, a small woman in a doll’s mask. The hair was subtly fake, but the wig was of high quality. He approved- [another layer of deception always helped.]

While she and Taylor talked, presumably exchanging information on measurements or other tailor-based topics, he looked around. This place was making him sweat. He tugged at the collar of his armored vest, and nodded to Kakuja. “Keep an eye on her, will you?” he said. The alternate looked taken aback for a moment, then nodded.

The crowds parted around him as he walked, as they had for the three of them. Metas here were feared as much as respected...or maybe it was just him.

Either way, he had space, and the quiet routine of area checks calmed him.

Heh. Big bad Operative, can't even stand a fancy clothes shop. Iasor, he was a mess without Johan.

Hrrm. They weren't the only metas here, it seemed. He spotted Miss Militia’s flag-patterned bandana easily, the way the crowds tried to get close to her drawing the eye.

She caught sight of him, and started heading his way.

Interesting.

Let's see how badly she wanted it, eh?

He grinned beneath his mask, and turned, heading through a gap between buildings. A fence blocked it off, but that was easily jumped, using the walls to provide the needed leverage. And just like that, he was out of the Boardwalk, back into the city proper.

A glance down the street, and he saw the PRT vans, foam sprayers up and ready. So, somewhat official at the least.

[Do what is least expected…]

Another grin, and he sauntered towards the vans, hands hooked into the belt loops of his jeans. The reactions, tightened fingers on sprayer triggers and turned heads behind featureless helmets… [fear. Good.] It showed intelligence.

And there was...ooh, apparently he rated two power-armored heroes, and one of the two tiny female Shakers in this city. “Ah, Protectorate and Wards. Looking for me? I wonder what I've done to deserve such attention? Granted, I did beat up those Merchants so hard two of them triggered with cocaine Brute and meth Mover powers, but hey, that should put me on your side.”

Was he enjoying messing with their heads? Yes he was. Especially Armsmaster’s expression. Having an artificial eye constantly recording paid off for things like that.

“We'd like you to come in for questioning,” the Protectorate leader said flatly. “Regarding a security breach in PRT systems. There aren't any other Tinkers in Brockton Bay. Just a few questions, clear things up.”

He spread his hands and stance, waiting. Vista would have to go down first- she'd negate his agility. Non-lethal... concussion grenade? Would work if he used multiples.

“And if I refuse?” he asked.

“Don't,” Armsmaster grated.

He'd pissed them off more than he'd thought. Wasn't even that difficult- the software had more backdoors in it than the...Door Emporium? Hmm. He was slipping.

He let the tension drain out of his stance, and saw the mooks ease up as well. “Seems simple enough. I expect to be paid. Computer security ain't cheap. Give me an hour or so to finish my business, and I'll be over.”

Now why did the armored man look so disappointed? 

Chapter Text

I'd finally figured out what had bothered me so much about Azrael, beyond the weird smell- not quite parahuman, not quite normal- that he had. He was basically a less-bleached Alabaster- cocky, arrogant, mouthy, all because he knew nothing could hurt him. Maybe, if the me here had those summoning powers, he'd picked up Alabaster's instead?

Either way, he'd wandered off fast, a faint undercurrent of nervousness practically bleeding off him, so I didn't have to listen to him very long. I wasn't entirely sure he was like Alabaster, and I didn't want to find out after doing what I usually did to get the albino to shut up.

Behind me, summoner-me- screw it, Taylor, I was just Kakuja now- made conversation with Parian, and I spared a glance- damn . That? That was some impressive work, and done fast too.

Taylor looked herself over. After talking it over, Parian had gone with a practical look for her costume, mostly dark blues and greys. A short grey bomber jacket, deep blue trousers, a thick blue vest underneath with a grey shirt. The mask, black as it was, hid her features more than enough. A belt laden with loops and pockets and a bandolier with more of the same completed the look, and I spotted empty holsters at each hip, good for tasers. Or pistols, but I doubted Taylor would go for those. I didn't like them, and I ate people.

Thrown together, it probably would have looked ridiculous. But Parian made it work on her, somehow.

Maybe once I got back I could try bribing my Parian to make something for me. The warlord lifestyle had its perks.

Azrael’s scent stood out from the crowd, somehow richer than the others. The difference between cheap jerky and a prime cut. He approached, calmer in both body language and scent, the casual ease back in his steps. He nodded to the two of us. “We good?”

“Very,” I replied. Taylor nodded, cheerier than she'd been. Her regular clothes were in a bag, I noticed.

“PRT’s causing trouble, same as usual. Think Armsmaster wants to fight me,” he said. I felt, more than heard, Parian and Taylor freeze. I wasn't surprised. The man was nothing if not a glory hound. Someone as obviously intimidating as Azrael would make a good capture, if he only gave the Tinker an excuse.

“I don't even want to know, do I?” Taylor said, heel of her hand pressed to her mask.

“Nope. But since they didn't want to hire me, and I’ve got no legal obligation to submit to questioning, they're up shit creek sans hydroimpeller.”

“Paddle,” I supplied.

“That's what I said.”

Yep. Alabaster.

“And...no, no, Taylor, that way lies madness,” I heard Taylor mutter. She gave him a glare. “Let's go back to the Union. Unless we're now being pursued by the PRT?”

“Nope,” Azrael said cheerily.

Less than fifteen minutes later, as an airborne dumpster hurtled towards me, I realized I really should have asked if this version of me had taken out the Merchants.

###

On the whole, Marcus wasn't all too sure about the idea. Granted, capes in costume were fair game, but... this cape? He didn't give a fuck about the two skinny bitches, they weren't shit, but Skids hadn't seen the crazy fucker in action. Fuck, just thinking about that day gave him shakes that had nothing to do with the meth. Half the boys that had been on the Docks that day were still in traction.

Course, short dark and ugly had done him a favor in a way, thanks to his powers. Every hit of powder was better than it had ever been before the explosion, sending the whole world into slow motion as long as the hit lasted. While it stayed that way, he could run while everything else crawled, and his punches hit like bullets. Pretty fucking sweet, and the fact that Skids hooked him up with an endless supply of the stuff to go with his powers and name- Jitter, fuck you very much- was even sweeter. Rager agreed, though he got hooked up with pussy-ass coke to make his powers work.

Still, even though the plan had made sense when Skids had laid it out- wait for the capes to leave, set an ambush, and hit them so that they knew the Merchants ruled these docks- seeing the trio approach made him worry, just a little bit.

Fuck it, a hit would fix that.

The world slowed just in time for him to see Skids shove a dumpster into the fields he'd been layering, sending it hurtling into the air like a missile as the rest of the boys started their charge. Squealer gunned the engine of the tank she'd been building, turrets swinging to point at the three as the dumpster descended.

Fuck that red-eyed bastard. He'd beat the fucker senseless, wasn't nothing that could touch him-

Ohfuck whatthehellwerethose-

Chapter Text

Out of all the people on her team, Hannah was the one who knew best what a war sounded like. Even at the worst times in Brockton Bay, it had never approached that level.

Now...now it had.

Squealer had been the first sign, her vehicle- more like a large and ugly tank than any car- difficult to hide by itself. Add in the two dozen armed Merchants, Skidmark, and the two new capes, and it was impossible to miss.

Add in who was being attacked, and she'd place bets on half the city being on fire by the end of the day. She just prayed they arrived in time.

She swerved around the diced remnants of a dumpster before coming to a stop as a hand waved at her. Doppel, apparently- newly costumed from the looks of it, crouched behind a wrecked car. Her doppelganger was nowhere to be seen.

She dismounted and trotted over, power shifting to a pistol as she did so. “What are we dealing with?”

“Gl- 'Azrael’s’ dealing with the Merchants and Squealer,” Doppel said, hand on a baton. “Kakuja...I don't know. She tore up the dumpster and then chased after Skidmark and the other two.”

Hannah nodded. At least the girl had the sense to keep her head down and away from the fighting. “Where-”

The building ahead exploded as Squealer’s contraption plowed through it's side, and Hannah caught sight of a laughing figure on top of it. Ah.

The tanklike vehicle swerved again, and Azrael leapt free, cartwheeling to a halt and shedding momentum in the most ostentatious way possible. This did not keep him from slamming into the car Doppel and Hannah we're crouched behind.

Hannah mentally added another point to the man's projected Brute rating as he sprang back up with a degree of profanity Skidmark would approve of.

The man reached into his coat, and pulled out what she recognized as an anti-tank rifle, the massive weapon neither inconveniencing him nor having the slightest apparent trouble fitting under his coat.

And a couple points in Breaker as well, apparently.

Thankfully, the madman never got the opportunity to fire his oversized weapon, as a red blur slammed into the side of Squealer's vehicle, sending it skidding, metal bent and engine smoking.

“Oh, a Guru,” she heard Azrael say. “Wonderful.”

That was not a wise man on a mountaintop. That was a demon, one occupied with slamming the twitching form of Rager into a steadily deepening dent in the tank’s chassis, while Jitter crawled away on broken legs and Skidmark twitched, impaled on a broken strut like a bug in a collector’s box. And yet, as the thing’s tendrils lowered it to the ground, she recognized the long brown hair, hair that matched Doppel’s. An intake of breath beside her told her Doppel was as shocked as she was. What? Had she not realized what her summoned creature was capable of?

“Kakuja...what are you-”

“I killed the Merchants.”

The doppelganger’s voice was flat, rendered that way by their mask.

“I killed them, and took them as my own. I had just hunted down Squealer, two days before I came here- she joined the Empire, you know, once I ate Skidmark and Mush.”

What.

“I made the best of things. And yet, for all that work, I find myself back here-” another slam, as Rager twitched again, swinging a feeble blow that she ignored. “-with them, stronger than ever.”

“Kakuja...should have realized,” Azrael said, and Hannah glared at him as her power shifted to an anti-materiel rifle of her own.

“So. You don’t like them. Fine. But they’re going away. Hell, they’re in no condition to leave even if someone broke them out. Let them go, and Doppel will send you back.”

Kakuja turned to face them, dragging Rager by the head with one hand. “He regenerates. I won’t have to scrounge anymore- a feast, for-”

“Enough.”

Chapter Text

Codename:  Azrael (formerly ‘Ranger’)

Identity:  (CLASSIFIED) Given as ‘Glen Carviss’, may be an alias

Affiliation:  Hero, Independent

Classification:  Brute 3, Mover 4, Tinker 6 (Blaster 6, Striker 2, Shaker 4), Stranger 0, possible Trump 3+. CLASSIFIED: Brute 0, Mover 0, Tinker 0

Power Details:  Tinker with unknown focus, possibly military. Has demonstrated superhuman strength and speed, and possibly a form of short range (>10 meters) teleportation or superspeed.

Tinker weapons have been stated to include heavy weaponry capable of severely damaging and destroying armored vehicles, and lighter, battle-rifle-equivalent plasma weaponry capable of killing an unaltered human with a single shot.

Has demonstrated use of nonlethal weaponry, including Tinkertech flashbangs, but has stated the bulk of his Tinkertech is invariably lethal in nature.

Carries a kukri and stilleto of unknown material, apparently a Tinkertech alloy.

Demonstrated defensive equipment includes what appears to be a gas mask with red lenses, an armored tactical vest, and a long coat of unknown material. The coat may possess extradimensional properties, as Azrael has been found to both place and remove items far larger than the available volume within the coat with ease.

Has demonstrated capability to breach classified data systems with ease. See file Incident 002TH.

May have an anti-Thinker power, focused on causing extreme pain and hallucinations towards long-range Thinkers. See file PBTR045. However, close-range Thinker powers that result from other power sets, such as Gallant’s emotion sight and Armsmaster’s lie detector have not been affected, though both reported anomalous results.

Appearance:  Wears a brown long coat, a dark grey armored vest, a red-lensed grey gas mask, and dark trousers, in addition to a brown belt. Brown hair, short. Caucasian.

History : First encounter during Incident 002SH. Was tagged as low priority due to lack of activity. Miss Militia was assigned to make contact three days after Incident, and was witness to Incident 001TH.

Observation shows evidence of heavy fighting against Merchant unpowered personnel near the Docks area during the periods between Incident 002SH and the following events.

Later claimed responsibility for a security breach of Wards files, as a result of Incident 001TH and the situation thereof. Expressed distaste towards PRT lack of awareness of situation. Threatened to leak information damaging to PRT to press and public. However, claimed he felt goodwill towards PRT efforts in general beyond Incident 002SH and 001TH and ramifications thereof.

Later evaded encounter with Miss Militia before encountering total of Protectorate contingent sent to speak with him. Acted as though at complete ease, though Thinker analysis stated otherwise. Refused to report to Protectorate base unless paid ‘consulting fee’. Left, ignoring repeated requests to do otherwise.

Later encountered Skidmark, Squealer, Jitter, and Rager of the Merchants, in addition to a large number of unpowered gang members, while in the company of Doppel and one of her doppelgangers. Proceeded to disable unpowered Merchant contingent with flashbangs and a taser-based melee weapon before engaging Squealer’s vehicle. Was able to inflict significant damage to the vehicle before being thrown clear.

Assessment:  Azrael has shown little interest in joining the Protectorate, likely as a result of Incident 002SH. However, despite lethal nature of Tinker powerset, has taken care to use non-lethal, if brutal, methods. Caution should be taken in encounters with Azrael, but no more than with any independent parahuman of considerable power.

Azrael has taken both a professional and personal interest in the cape Doppel, likely both in and out of their civilian identity. It should be assumed that any move against Doppel, legal or otherwise, will invite retaliation on a massive scale.

(CLASSIFIED)

Azrael is, in fact, not a parahuman, but an augmented human from an alternate Earth. All Tinkertech and other parahuman abilities are military weaponry and augmentations due to his occupation. Has made reference to serving as a black-ops soldier for an organization called the ‘Conclave of Shikan’. All advanced technology is maintainable and reproducible by a non-Tinker given sufficient resources, according to Dragon and Armsmaster.

Contact Procedures : Azrael frequents the Docks area. Approach cautiously. Treat with respect, and act in a disciplined manner. Do not broach possibility of joining Protectorate. Do not mention Shadow Stalker. DO NOT threaten Doppel or anyone Azrael has demonstrated professional or personal attachment to, under any circumstances. Assume Azrael is prepared for virtually any situation and will rapidly escalate to lethal force and beyond if pushed.

Codename:  Doppel

Identity:  (CLASSIFIED)

Affiliation:  Hero, Independent

Classification:  Master 1, Trump 8, (Thinker 1), Tinker 0

Power Details : Doppel’s primary ability is to summon 'alternate selves’ through an unknown mechanism. These alternates, or doppelgangers, have, so far, all displayed potent parahuman abilities of varying types, though thus far they have been accompanied by physical or mental changes of varying potency. Many of these alternates have information that has proven accurate to Earth Bet, and is often classified or otherwise sensitive, merely due to coming from a future of their particular Earth relative to ours. They are fully autonomous and sentient, and thus their being projections of any sort is unlikely.

Recorded alternates have been:

Terror

Changer 9, Brute 6+

Capable of shifting into an immense golden eastern dragon exceeding 150ft in length at will. Assumed Brute rating after Incident TH001. Highly paranoid and emotional, possibly as a result of her powers.

No unique costume, as her Changer state does not preserve her clothing and she instinctively shifted to it upon arrival.

Kakuja

Brute 7, Changer 4, Mover 4

High-level regeneration and strength, as well as the creation of four 'tails’ from their back which can be used as cutting and crushing weapons. Made mention of dietary limitation of human flesh and coffee, corroborated by Azrael, who referred to her powerset as ‘Guru’ (Japanese for ghoul). Prideful and showed no apparent hesitation for killing. Has made reference to consuming Merchant capes, and desired to return to her Earth Bet with Rager if possible due to Merchant capes regenerative abilities allowing her a constant supply of ‘food’.

Costume is a white jacket and red-lensed white mask paired with a compression top and dark trousers.

Aquila

Tinker 7 (Brute 6, Striker 3?, Blaster 5?, Mover 2), possible Master 5+, Thinker 10+

Significant physical augmentation, as well as a large suit of advanced powered armor with built-in weaponry. Has demonstrated significant foreknowledge and an commanding ability beyond her years. Likely high-level Thinker in addition to Tinker abilities.

Thus far Doppel has not shown the ability to summon the same alternate twice, but this should not be considered a confirmed limitation of her powers.

Doppel can summon more than one alternate at a time, but doing so causes feedback analogous to a Thinker headache.

The alternates Doppel summons are not controlled by her, nor are they initially aware of the specific circumstances of their summoning. However, as they are her in a sense, it should be assumed they will work with her.

Conversation with Doppel has implied she is not in full control of her summoning process, and her power may operate on subconscious desires.

In addition to her own powers, Doppel has been provided with Tinkertech from both Azrael and her alternate ‘Aquila’.

(CLASSIFIED) Azrael has identified both 'Kakuja’ and 'Aquila’ as possessing powersets of great similarity to beings in some of the alternate universes he has traveled to, referring to Kakuja as 'that white-haired (expletive)’ and Aquila as 'a Primarch, or maybe a fancy Astartes’.

Appearance:  Grey bomber jacket, blue vest, grey shirt, blue trousers. Black mask covering upper head, leaving mouth and lower jaw exposed. Belt and bandolier with various items within. Long brown hair. Caucasian.

History : Triggered as a result of Incident 002SH, was hospitalized following discovery by Azrael. Was healed by Panacea three days later, discovered powers, resulting in Incident 001TH. Miss Militia has refused to disclose her identity, and the PRT, at both her and Director Piggot’s request, has intervened in order to prevent her unmasking.

Since release from hospital, has remained inactive save for acquiring a costume (likely from Parian, see Surveillance file BW10911) and participating in the battle with Merchant capes the same day, where she remained a non-combatant due to the nature of her power. However, it is likely she has started work near the Docks area, judging from police call patterns.

Assessment:  Doppel has shown a marked disinterest in joining the Wards as a result of the circumstances of her Trigger Event- however, she has interacted positively with Protectorate and Wards personnel.

Doppel herself, like most Masters, possesses no powers of her own beyond her doppelgangers. She has demonstrated a personal lack of fighting skill- however, if the power level of her alternates remains consistent, she should be considered a threat and taken down non-lethally at the earliest possible opportunity to prevent her summoning doppelgangers at the earliest opportunity. Combat with Doppel should be considered risky, though, as entirely separate from her own powerset Azrael has taken an interest in mentoring her.

Contact Procedures:  Doppel’s patrol patterns have yet to be determined, but will likely coincide with Azrael's. Approach cautiously, and treat with respect. Contact procedures with doppelgangers will vary, but afford them the respect one would any powerful parahuman. Do not mention Shadow Stalker. Do not broach the subject of Wards recruitment. Do not threaten if Azrael is within communications distance.

Chapter Text

Fuck. Everything.

I was already long past caring by the point Miss Militia arrived. When the reaction of the sole adult present was to laugh maniacally and chase after the giant tank-thing, I’d lost most of the fucks I’d normally give.

When it turned out the alternate I summoned was both brutal and cannibalistic, I entered the negative range.

When my power evidently thought it was a wonderful idea to bring in another me, giving me a headache that felt like a coal miner tripping on every drug the Merchants sold simultaneously was hammering away at my temples, I hit bottom and started using said coal miner to dig deeper.

Needless to say, I sympathized with Kakuja when she glared angrily at the giant, golden, power-armored version of me.

“Enough.”

Yeah, the amplified voice was not helping the headache, at-fucking-all. Nor the angry, cat-like noise Kakuja made in response.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Glen seeing to Skidmark and Jitter. Rager, of course, was still in Kakuja’s grip.

Good. The first one, not the fact that apparently a version of me was crazy enough to want a regenerating long pig buffet.

Speaking of which…

“Hey,” I managed to force out past the headache. “Can you turn it down?”

Unoriginal? Yes. But it got golden-me to give me a look.

I felt something crawl through my mind.

“So that is how I am here. I almost thought Tzeentch had finally found a way to interfere instead.”

“You-” Another stab of pain cut me off. “You have serious boundary issues.”

“I do what is necessary.”

Kakuja snorted. “I say that as well.” She directed an angry look at me. “What? You think I’m like the Siberian? Eating because I’m crazy? I would not do this unless I had no choice.”

“You always have a choice,” Golden-me rumbled.

“What? Death by starvation?”

“To remain human? Yes. Instead you gave it up, and with it sank into murder and the dealings of cartels. We were the same...and yet while I seek to improve my city, you contribute to the rot.”

So, golden-me was an asshole even if the person they were speaking to was also them. Noted.

“I’ve done the best I could with what I had,” Kakuja said, taking a step back. The tendrils on her back twitched. Then she growled, and dropped Rager. The Merchant’s head made a hollow noise as it hit the pavement. I really didn't care, but nobody deserved being food forever.

And on that note, fuck the headache, Cannibal here should really be going away before she did something stupid. I reached for her light, still so close it was almost a part of me. Trying to shift it was like dragging a boulder, but I was managing it.

And then Carviss started laughing, and whatever hold I had on it vanished.

Damn that adrenaline-junky man-child in a responsible adult’s body.

“Do I really want to know what’s so entertaining?” Miss Militia asked coolly.

Right. She was standing there too.

“I would like to know as well,” the giant in golden armor proclaimed.

Huh. She'd twitched when she'd gotten a look at him. You'd think power armor would make you less freaked out.

“Both of you have powers I recognize from travels. You-” he nodded at Kakuja. “-remind me of that white-haired fucker I blew up a dozen universes ago, right down to the tendrils, and you are either a Primarch or a fancy Astartes. Let me guess, your cape name is Imperator?”

Power Armor Me twitched again, and I felt the presence in the back of my head retreat. “Aquila.”

“I think the Protectorate would be very interested, both in debriefing all of you, and in exactly what you mean by that statement,” Miss Militia interjected. “And in what we discussed previously.”

“Told you, pay me or I don't bother. That, or we talk on neutral ground. I'm not a fan of entering a place with foam sprayers behind every wall.”

“Tell me. Is Shadow Stalker still a Ward in this reality?”

“ Sophia got sent away, and good fucking riddance,” I spat, as another bolt of pain stabbed through my head.

“Hm. Curious. Because she's on top of the building, apparently wondering whether she can--”

A crossbow bolt stopped dead in the air, and I backed into the side of the car. Shit that was close.

“She is not all that bright, evidently,” Aquila said.

Chapter Text

Six days ago

“Hey, Stalker, come take a look at this.”

She suppressed a groan. Even in normal conversation, Kid Win sounded like a whiny little bastard. But she glanced up from her crossbow. He was still browsing PHO.

“What?”

“New cape, looks like. Going vigilante on some Merchants.”

Fine. She sat up, leaning over the shrimp’s shoulder.

Shit video, probably someone's cell phone. Still, it was good enough to make out the big cloud of white smoke...and the burning red eyes in the middle of it.

Did Grue have a brother or something?

Abruptly, a Merchant came flying out, clutching a hand that was obviously broken. He hit the pavement hard, but got up and ran. A couple more of the raggedy-ass gangers sprinted out as well, clearly terrified.

The new cape walked out of the smoke cloud, cracking his knuckles. She recognized those gloves, at least- sap gloves of some kind, clearly weighted. Probably how he beat down the Merchants, not that that was much of an achievement.

She gave the building behind the new guy a glance. Looked like somewhere near the Docks.

The shaky video shifted and zoomed out as a dark shape hurtled out of the smoke, barely missing the man.

Now, that was new. A massive brute of a guy, glowing with white fire. Didn't seem to faze the gasmasked cape, though, since he dodged, coming up with a huge knife and slashing at the big guy’s face. Judging from the way the big Merchant clutched his face and howled, he’d hit one or both eyes. Ruthless. Good.

“Son of a bitch,” Kid Win muttered.

“Language,” Aegis said sharply, walking through the room.

“Sorry. Still. Two new capes, at least, and the ‘hero’ one seems to not be all that nice.”

“Gasmask and coat? Probably Krieg’s kid,” she shot back. It’d make sense, testing the fresh meat on the easy gang rather than risking an angry Lung.

“Great. More villains.”

“How’d he make the smoke?”

“No idea. Video started with it already up.” He gave her a look. “You’re usually not this interested.”

“Either he’s a nazi or he’s someone who understands how shit works,” she said. “Look. Merchant cape’s a regenerator.”

“You think he knew that?”

Eh. Maybe. She didn’t care, really. Wasn’t as if prey like them mattered.

On Kid’s screen, the gasmasked cape slammed a booted heel into the Brute’s knee, bending it backwards with a snap that even the shitty phone picked up. The Brute’s fiery aura guttered and went out, and the Merchant collapsed. The man took a step back. Fuck. Wasn’t he going to finish the job?

Still, he’d had a good start. Maybe she could find him, talk to him about how the world worked. Maybe he already knew.

Those red eyes swiveled, glaring at the camera.

Oh, he knew. He also knew not to do it where the sheep could see, then. Wouldn’t do to spoil one’s hunting grounds.

Four days ago

“Shit shit shit SHIT!”

Every photo, every text, every file on her phone was gone. Everything. She glared at the empty screen, hoping that would convince it to return all her stuff.

She’d had trophies on there.

Instead, the phone flickered and died, and wouldn’t turn back on no matter how much she pushed the on button.

This was not good.

Her phone wasn’t smart, so it wouldn’t get hacked easily. And who would go after a Ward’s personal things?

Only a Tinker had the kind of bullshit for this, and there weren’t many in Brockton. Leet was too stupid, Kid Win didn’t have the balls, and Armsmaster had a halberd up his rectum, so that left…

Shit. Ranger. He’d been on PHO, claiming to be a Tinker.

But what…

No, think later, run now. If he had it, he’d either use it on her or try to have it cage her, and she was not dealing with another Stephen. Never again.

PHQ walls had plenty of electricity in them, but she knew the spots where it didn’t, places where she could slip through...if barely. And one was right in the corner of her room.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Shadow Stalker.”

Armsmaster, the prick. He sounded pissed, too.

That probably meant Ranger had gone and turned everything over to the PRT.

She didn’t need to make a decision. A shift into shadowstate, a dive and a roll, and she was on her way to freedom.

All she had to do was take down Ranger. Make it obvious, somehow, that he’d faked things. Then the sheep would bleat and let her go back to doing what was right.

Twenty minutes ago

She’d spotted the bastard, but more importantly, she’d spotted Hebert. No costume could hide the height and hair, much less the way she walked- like prey. With another beside her, it had been even easier to know just what she was. There’d been rumors of a new cape that’d appeared, and before she’d...left...she’d heard what Miss Militia had named her.

Doppel. A fucking stupid name for a fucking stupid girl. She couldn't find her own strength, so she borrowed it from those who did. Why else would Ranger had bothered?

Another her walked alongside. This one...it was easy to tell that she was strong. She walked unafraid. Like a survivor.

She ducked out of sight as she saw more Merchants cluster up ahead, invisible to the three on the street. Wouldn't do to interfere in this- it was time to see just what kind of predators Hebert had managed to win over.

Now

She ran, hurdling another rooftop.

The bolt should have hit, but fucking 'Aquila’ just had to be either a telekinetic or pulling some weird Tinker bullshit.

She'd planned to put down Militia, too. One less 'hero’ to go after her. But the way Ranger, Militia, and the incredibly loud Tinker had run after her meant she'd had to book it.

A burst of green energy flew past her shoulder and melted a glowing crater in the lip of the roof ahead. She stopped.

“I don't have to miss,” Ranger called out, and she looked over her shoulder, to where he stood on the edge of the roof, mask blank.

Of course he had a Tinkertech rifle. Of course.

She wasn't staying for this. A shift brought her down and through the ceiling, onto cracked linoleum flooring. Another floor whizzed by just as quickly. There, she could-

A golden-gauntleted hand burst through the floor, wrapping around her ankle and dragging her down. Her head slammed against the floor as Aquila threw her down, and she saw stars.

“Sophia Hess. Shadow Stalker.” An armored boot caught her in the ribs, and she felt things crack as she rolled. “Still as weak as ever. Nothing more than an animal.”

“Not...not weak,” she snarled, on hands and knees, trying for breath that didn't seem to want to come. Bitch had fucked up her ribs.

“I see otherwise. You call yourself strong, but the girl you tried to murder is stronger than you will ever be. You call yourself a predator, as if sacrificing your humanity makes you great.”

“Fuck...you…” Was this gold-plated idiot going to monologue at her like a two-bit villain?

An invisible force picked her up, forcing her arms and legs wide, and the claws on Aquila’s suit crackled with electricity.

“You know, my own Protectorate also failed miserably at keeping you contained, and you came after me. I was lesser than, but you were still not the slightest threat. You are weak , Sophia Hess.”

The black claimed her.

Chapter Text

The footage was from Armsmaster's helmet camera, and was still highly classified, thanks to it being a live feed. Not that it mattered to him.

The hero’s view swept over a street littered with unconscious Merchants as his motorcycle drove past. PRT troopers were already loading up the unpowered cannon fodder.

He ignored the sound of Armsmaster muttering as the motorcycle turned around the wrecked remnants of Squealer's vehicle and the ambulances parked alongside, in favor of the capes the hero focused on.

Azrael and Miss Militia were arguing, the Protectorate cape standing with her arms folded while the independent gesticulated wildly, finally pointing at Stalker’s unconscious form at the foot of one of Doppel's summonings, who appeared to be highly amused by the discussion, tendrils waving languidly. Even at this distance, Armsmaster's microphone could pick up the edge of the argument.

“-supposed to come in and be informed. We had no other method of contacting you, and you hadn't appeared since meeting with us. If you and Doppel had-”

“If you want a fucking meeting, I fucking live at the Docks! Have Mr. Halberd-up-his-rectum come find me and discuss things like civilized human beings, not this cloak-and-dagger bullshit!”

“And violate the unwritten rules?”

“The what now?” Doppel asked.

The directional mic lost the sound as Armsmaster glanced over at the remnants of Squealer’s vehicle, where paramedics were seeing to the Merchant capes. Doppel's summoning had not been gentle.

Well, this was interesting.

Two new capes of considerable power and resourcefulness, both now virtually guaranteed to hate and distrust the PRT, according to the files on Ms. Hess. One a Tinker, and quite a lethal one, the other a Master of unique variety. Yes, both could indeed be put to use.

Armsmaster's attention turned back to the small group as the argument wound down. The summon guarding Ms. Hess had vanished, but the golden-armored giant remained. It gave Armsmaster a look, and--

I SEE YOU.

Coil shut the timeline instantly, then took deep breaths.

Shit. It had happened again. Militia had been the same- the moment she had looked at the golden giant…

Cautiously, he split the timelines again. In one, he remained at his desk, continuing to manage his businesses. In the other, he tried another camera feed. Gallant’s, this time.

The Ward was observing from a rooftop, narrating his readings of emotional states like a good little Thinker. Mostly, he just sounded confused, baffled by the giant and the Tinker. Countermeasures? Doppel had dismissed her more feral summon. The giant looked up, and--

I WILL FIND YOU.

Another shut timeline, and he nodded to himself. This was clearly too dangerous to approach without the proper...leverage.

He split the timeline again, and in the new one, picked up the phone.

Time to put Mrs. Livsey to use.

Chapter Text

“I believe I need to depart. While this has been entertaining, I have urgent business home,” Aquila thundered. ‘Doppel’ winced, then nodded.

“I have two gifts for you. Do not let them out of your hands lightly. The first…”

Aquila unclipped what he recognized as a power maul, as if it had come straight from that ‘verse of angry theocrats, from her armor’s belt, and handed it over hilt-first. “As for the second…”

Nothing happened, but Doppel staggered back, raising a hand to her forehead. Then she nodded, lips set in a thin line.

Aquila vanished like a pricked bubble.

“Well, that was...something,” Miss Militia said shortly, glaring at the unconscious form of Shadow Stalker. She gave Doppel a look. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to come in? For a debriefing?”

He shut out the remainder of their conversation in favor of looking at the approaching figure of Armsmaster. He spread his arms in the most [mocking] way he could. “Halbeard! A pleasure to see you!”

Perfect. He could hear the man’s teeth start grinding from here.

Doppel tapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go home,” she said shortly. “We’re done here.”

“You can't-”

“Actually, we can ,” Doppel said, cutting off Armsmaster. “I looked up 'unlawful arrest’ after I triggered. I've done nothing wrong.”

Armsmaster pointed at the ambulances. “And that?”

“Kakuja, not me.”

“A new summon,” Miss Militia interjected. She gave the Tinker a look. “And I still think you should come in, if only for legal reasons.”

“Making sure you and your doppelgangers are legally distinct, rather than the results of a Master power,” Armsmaster said.

His HUD picked up parts of the man's armor charging. He didn't think they'd go quietly, then.

“Sure, why not,” he said.

***

Ah, the wonders of ceiling tiles. Doppel was drumming her fingers on the surface of the metal table worriedly, but he ignored it. No, what really interested him was the data streaming over the lenses in his mask. So many holes in their system security, it wasn’t much of a surprise they couldn’t accomplish anything.

Ten minutes of sitting here, and he’d already gotten into the security again. Really, they needed to just replace everything and start over.

“Why do I keep listening to your ideas?” Taylor grumbled.

“You harbor a subconscious attraction to sociopathic older men?” he mused, still staring upward. She punched him in the shoulder, then winced.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he said. “Thumb outside, hit with the flats, wrist straight.” He demonstrated. “Like so.”

The next punch was more acceptable.

“Dad’s probably freaking out. We weren’t supposed to be gone this long.”

“They didn’t think to- of course not.” He pulled an earpiece from under his coat, then a mic. “First one goes over the ear, second along the jaw. Give me a second…”

He pulled out his tablet, and started tapping. The building itself was meant to only allow certain transmissions, but if he piggybacked off them...there, right into the cell networks, and encrypted just so so anyone who snuck in later wouldn't have the slightest clue what it was. “Go ahead and say his number. Mic’ll pick it up if you mutter, because we don’t want anyone overhearing ,” he said to the half-dozen listening devices concealed in the walls, and the obvious camera in the corner.

“Dad? Dad, we’re okay. We’re at the PRT building. No, we’re not in trouble- just got in a fight with some Merchants. Ummm….all their capes except Mush. No, it’s fine! We’re both alright. They just wanted to talk.”

The door slammed open, and Armsmaster stalked in, pointing a finger at him. “ Stop doing that.”

“Gonna have to call you back, Dad,” Taylor said quickly.

He closed the program, and sat up properly. “Finally got your attention?” he asked, [cheekily].

“ How do you keep getting into the system? I built it, it shouldn’t be that easy to hack…”

“Oh, there’s enough backdoors in it that I can always find a way in.”

“And can you hurry up and get the paperwork you dragged us here to sign?” Doppel asked.

Armsmaster visibly composed himself, then pointed at him again. “I’m not sure what your goal here is, but stop giving me reasons to arrest you.”

“I quite agree,” another voice said. One [recognized] - the local Director. She entered, a large woman, but he could see the remnants of musculature. Not unusual- he'd seen enough soldiers lose conditioning on a desk job.

“Armsmaster, would you kindly escort Doppel and allow her to fill out the required forms.”

Doppel paused, then nodded. She gave him a careful look as she left.

Aaand there was the iron gaze. About a four on the Cidet scale. He clamped down on [performance] , shifting to [readiness.]

“Stalker?” he asked.

“Will be sent to a juvenile prison. She's violated the terms of her probation. And we'll be working on prosecuting her accomplices.”

“Generous.”

“Parahuman or not, she doesn't get to flout the law.”

Implications. Obvious ones. He shrugged. “I'll send my notes on what needs fixing to whoever you like as compensation, if you want. And we both know law gets bent for a situation like this.”

“Speaking of your situation, you are aware I am obligated to report just that to the Chief Director?”

“Multidimensional travel protocol?”

Piggot smiled. “Precisely, Mr. Carviss. ”

He shrugged, dismissing her use of his name. “Better than having to come up with an explanation,” he said shortly. “Mind if I reciprocate this?”

“Is that a threat?”

He blinked. What. “Oh, no. No. I actually like that you lot have something planned. Most 'verses I either have to hide my identity or beat someone up in order to establish a place. But I am telling you Doppel and I have a plan in place to handling the other two. Without involving the PRT. Unwritten rules and all.”

She frowned. “And the details of this plan?”

“Oh, nothing illegal. Just evidence gathering.”

“Still, I believe it is in your best interest to explain precisely what you plan to do. After all, your shopping trip today turned into a cape brawl.”

He nodded, and started explaining.

***

It wasn't that much later when they'd gotten back, but it felt like it. Piggot was relentless. Still, they'd made it back to the Docks, on the PRT’s dime for the cab no less, and it was time to wind down. Taylor, it seemed, had not gotten the message, and seemed further agitated than before.

Danny had taken her home. He'd filed the look the man had given him under consideration for later. It would not do to strain his host’s generosity.

He opened the door to the rented warehouse, and-

Someone had been here.

A breath, and a quick motion, hand on stiletto hilt, the blade hidden in a coat sleeve. Bare traces of scent, small changes to scattered objects. The disarmed claymore mine under the decoy table.

And the note on the cot he'd appropriated. Of course.

An address. Docks, still, walkable, and in a shell of a building if his recollections were right.

Come alone. We will know if you tell others.

He bared teeth, and ripped the note in half before stalking back out.

A hunt? [Yes, that would do nicely.]

Chapter Text

She hated doing this.

Her power wasn't needed for the lock- she'd long since stolen and copied the master key, just in case she was ordered to break into Dockworker property. The warehouse itself was easy enough to find- the blocked-up windows and swept-out area in front of the door might as well have put a neon sign for her power.

The door squealed on rusty hinges.

Deliberately allows rust to build up. Warning if home, certain to wake occupants.

She stepped forward cautiously, keeping an eye out. It didn’t look like a Tinker workshop, just empty, a few pieces of metal furniture scattered about. But appearances could be deceiving, and Tinkers were bullshit.

She needed to know if there were traps, after all.

Package under table near door.

Package dark, meant to be concealed.

Package is Tinkertech explosive.

Claymore mine. Box of nails in front for additional shrapnel.

Sensor arc one foot ahead of current position, extends  90 degrees. Meant to allow Azrael to disarm upon entry.

Shit.

She let out a breath, and carefully stepped wide around the package, coming up behind it.

Arming mechanism meant for ease of use. Button under casing.

A click, and the trap was turned off.

Alright. Time to do what she came for.

The note Coil had ordered her to place was set on the one upright cot, still sealed. She knew what it contained- a request to meet at the location she’d been ordered to stay at.

Azrael.

She knew the man would either be killed or recruited- that was how Coil worked when he couldn’t work nice.

And she couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

---

The building, though crumbling, still was intact enough to have a quiet meeting. Not intact enough to offer much cover from the sniper she knew Coil had watching her.

She had to be careful. One wrong word, one false move, and she’d join Azrael.

There he was now. The eyes of his gas mask practically glowed in the dusk. He walked jauntily, seemingly unconcerned.

Is happy.

Willing to kill.

His gaze centered on her, and he paused briefly.

Willing to kill.

Unwilling to kill.

He drew closer, entering through an empty hole that might have been a door once.

“You’re the one who left the note? There are easier ways to find me.”

Is annoyed by the fact I broke in.

Well that was fucking obvious.

“Not ones that don't end with an arrest,” she replied brightly, power feeding her body language.

All she had to do was stall.

“Hrrm. So, you here to talk, or is our friend up there going to do something deeply stupid?”

Aware of sniper. Knows it's a trap. Unconcerned. Brute, Breaker, Stranger, Mas -

She shut off the junk conclusions, then took a breath. “I -”

He tackled her as a gunshot boomed, crushing her to the floor.

Shit!

Was aimed at me. Was aimed at him.

The fuck, powers?

“Half a sec’, darlin’,” Azrael drawled, leaping off her and into cover. A bullet knocked chips off the concrete in his wake.

Then her world went green.

Anti-tank weapon.

Sniper very very dead.

Great, her power was developing a sense of humor.

Azrael offered her a hand up. His other hand was occupied nonchalantly hefting a Tinkertech rifle nearly as long as he was tall.

She took it.

“Care to explain everything?” he asked, unconcerned. “Such as, why a minor villain group sees the need to break into my house and leave mysterious notes?”

That was all the incentive she needed.

###

“What the hell, Tats,” Brian said flatly.

“Hey, not her fault,” Azrael replied, leaning against an air-conditioning unit. “I did ask for her to set this up. Saved her ass from getting sniped by Coil, so she owed me a favor.”

What.

Tattletale sighed. “I need to explain. Our boss? Coil.”

What.

As the whole story spilled out- Lisa’s recruitment, Coil’s infiltration, his base and mercs and shadowy contacts- he found himself grateful for the motorcycle helmet- it hid his expression.

If Coil was their boss...Aisha could be in danger. Especially with how Tattletale had been recruited. Coil didn’t care about the Rules.

“...I still don't know why he shot at me. My power keeps giving weird answers.” She glared at Azrael.

“So everything the boss-- Coil -- promised has gone to shit,” Brian said flatly. “That's great. So now what do we do?”

“Well, my plan was to go in, kill everything, and put Coil’s head on the PRT Director’s desk, but apparently your teammate objects to that.”

What.

“So I plan to settle for killing all his mercs and delivering him to the Rig tied up in a pretty pink bow. Figured you'd want to know I'm taking your boss down, so asked Tattletale here to call a meeting after I put an anti-tank round into the sniper Coil had watching.”

There was a quiet voice screaming in the back of Brian's head at this point. He pretended it wasn't there.

“And you’re here... why, exactly? Going to arrest us?” he asked, sending darkness to drift out, ready to blind the crazy bastard.

Azrael cocked his head. “Why bother? You haven't killed anyone, not during your career here at least.”

“How-” Bitch said, taking a step forward, her dogs growling at their mistress’s distress.

“I hacked all the PRT files. All of them.”

Tattletale started laughing.

“Apparently,” Azrael continued, “I accidentally accessed them through Coil's backdoors.” He gave Bitch a glance. “Don't care if you've killed. Would be dishonest to do otherwise.” Back at Brian. “Anyway, I'm going to let Tattletale here handle the rest of Coil's assets while I do the grunt work. Can I count on you to not side with him, then?”

###

Coil was not having a good day.

The timeline split had been simple, for this job- one with the meeting fifteen minutes earlier than the other. It let him know what was going to happen without needing precog.

The earlier timeline had gone wrong very quickly. Carviss had simply walked up, apparently oblivious to the sniper, and engaged Miss Livsey in conversation. The directional mic in the sniper's nest picked up what they were saying quite easily, but none of it was actually important.

They'd still been talking when Carviss had fired his Tinkertech weapon into the sniper, frying both him and the surveillance equipment.

He'd ended the earlier timeline, and split again, waiting for Carviss to arrive. When he did, and they'd started speaking, he'd sent different orders. In one timeline, the sniper fired at Miss Livsey, in the other, Carviss.

Ten minutes later, a swarm of nightmarish creatures burst into his base and began slaughtering everyone. In the other, Carviss killed his sniper again. The first timeline was discarded, and Coil sent orders to put the base on lockdown.

Three hours had passed since then.

Five minutes ago, all the exterior cameras had failed simultaneously.

He'd tried to activate the self-destruct, only to find himself locked out of his own computers.

No matter. His men were prepared, unlike the other timeline. Monsters or not, they weren't bulletproof. They could fight off any attack, especially with him to try everything out in disposable timelines.

He just needed time.

###